


Reactionary

by dailyroutineat221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dailyroutineat221B/pseuds/dailyroutineat221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’re going to investigate on City of London School for Girls.”</p><p>“So what?” John asked, not following.</p><p>“There will be girls,” Sherlock said slowly, but John didn’t get it yet. He rolled his eyes and added, “Don’t act like you don’t behave like a Don Juan around women.”</p><p>“What? Are you serious?” John asked in disbelief, “Is this some kind of joke?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reactionary

**Author's Note:**

> Just want to thank my lovely beta for the recommendation to change the title from 'Reactance' to 'Reactionary' ;)

“Sherlock!” John yelled from the corridor, “What are you doing in my bedroom?”

He approached the door and spotted Sherlock going through his clothes.

“I’m choosing an outfit,” Sherlock replied dully.

“Oh, great,” John grumbled, “Have you considered that none of my clothes would ever fit you?”

“Don’t be stupid, John. It’s not for me.”

“Oh joy, now you’re giving my clothes away!” John peered around Sherlock to look at the mess he was making, “You’re messing everything up, Sherlock!”

“I’m not giving anything away, John,” Sherlock retorted, “I’m planning an outfit for you.”

“For me?!” John gasped, “Why are you planning an outfit for me?”

“Because we’re going out,” Sherlock said as he glanced over his shoulder at John.

“Out?” John seemed confused, “Out how?”

“What do you mean by ‘how’?” Sherlock asked as he got up and squinted his eyes, “How are we going out? Well, there’s a door and all we have to do is step out of it.”

“Sherlock, don’t try to be funny.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Never mind. Where are we going?” John asked tired.

“Crime Scene,” Sherlock said shortly and dug again through John’s clothes.

“But, why can’t I go—“

“Here. Try those,” Sherlock cut him off, shoving three old shirts on him.

“Those are horrible,” John complained, “And tell me why I have to dress a specific way.”

“John…” Sherlock started slowly.

“I’m not wearing those,” John said as he gave Sherlock a suspicious look, “They’re horrible shirts! I got them as some obscure Christmas gift. I don’t even know why I still have them.”

“They’re perfect,” Sherlock said.

“They even smell.”

“Marvelous!”

John ripped the shirts out of Sherlock’s hand and threw them on the bed.

“You’re going to explain yourself and you’re doing it right now.”

Sherlock looked at John with wide eyes as John’s words caused some shivers inside him. John was right in front of him, hands on his waist and a serious look on his face, completely demanding.

“I—, I mean,”

“Sherlock, what’s going on?”

Sherlock shook his head and concentrated again.

“We’re going to investigate on City of London School for Girls.”

“So what?” John asked, not following.

“There will be girls,” Sherlock said slowly, but John didn’t get it yet. He rolled his eyes and added, “Don’t act like you don’t behave like a Don Juan around women.”

“What? Are you serious?” John asked in disbelief, “Is this some kind of joke?”

Sherlock said nothing.

“Did you really think I would try something with those kids?” John asked disgusted.

“I didn’t say that,” Sherlock backed away.

“Well, you pretty much suggested It,” John retorted, “You’re giving me horrible clothes so I won’t feel confident enough, aren’t you?”

“No, John, I was trying to prevent them coming to you.”

“For God’s sake, Sherlock! They’re kids. They’re eighteen at most.”

“A hundred girls confined with another hundred girls the whole year without seeing a single man,” Sherlock explained, “By their age, hormones are going crazy and you may be appealing to them, judging their situation,” Sherlock’s cheeks had gone reddish and he looked away.

John furrowed his eyebrows.

“You didn’t think it was a compliment, right? Because it wasn’t,” John stated analyzing Sherlock’s expression.

Sherlock looked up, his face apologetic.

“Look, Sherlock, I’m not a pedophile, for fuck’s sake,” John said as he rubbed his temple and let his hands fall to his sides dramatically.

“But they’re teenagers, John,” Sherlock said quietly, rolling his eyes at the repetition, “They will eat you alive if you look the least presentable.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to do anything with them,” John started but chose to turn tables and put the focus on Sherlock, “And what about you?”

“About me?” Sherlock knitted his eyebrows together, “What about me?”

“You look pretty… good,” John pointed out.

“I’m not a threat.”

John laughed, “And I am?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said as he turned his back to John again and got back to searching his wardrobe.

John lost his patience and grabbed Sherlock’s shoulder, pulling and turning him around until they were eye to eye.

“In what world I would be a ‘threat’ and you wouldn’t?” John inquired.

“Well, John, giving your history—“ Sherlock was cut off.

“Look at you! You’re handsome with…with your blue eyes,” John stopped abruptly when he realized what he was saying.

“Your eyes are also blue,” Sherlock said lowly.

“Oh, stop it!” John turned on his heel, giving Sherlock his back.

John was biting his bottom lip, staring at the wall and thinking about how mad Sherlock drove him. It made him angry that Sherlock made him say things he wouldn’t. He was just about to say something when he felt something wrapping around his head. Sherlock had taken the opportunity to put an old cap on John’s head while he wasn’t looking.

“What?!” John gasped, turning back to face Sherlock, “You’re mad!”

And John ripped the cap off his head and threw it on the floor.

“Stop, Sherlock!”

“No. We can’t afford you getting distracted.”

“I won’t,” John said tiredly, “I promise.”

Sherlock eyed him, took a deep breath and fished the cap from floor.

“But I’ll get distracted,” Sherlock said petulantly. John’s eyes widened, but before he could say anything Sherlock explained, “I won’t be able to concentrate knowing those girls will be all around you.”

“What? Are you listening to yourself?” John asked angrily, his last drop of patience gone, “Get out of my room!”

“But, John,” Sherlock started as John was pushing him through the door.

“Out!” John slammed the door and started to pick up the mess of clothes around his room.

Sherlock went downstairs with a smirk playing on his lips and sat to wait until John was ready.

John was a bit agitated and mad at Sherlock. He decided to put on his best clothes just to bother him. He picked dark and tight jeans and a red shirt and the new pair of shoes he brought but never had a chance to wear. He was ready to leave when he spotted the cap lying on his bed.

“Bloody wanker…” He muttered.

He stepped back to look at himself in the mirror. He picked up the small bottle of hair gel and slightly spiked his hair. He looked at his reflection again and smiled evilly. At last, he sprayed on some of his finest cologne and went downstairs.

Sherlock was sitting on the couch, waiting. John glanced at him with a satisfactory grin as Sherlock’s eyes widened briefly. Sherlock coughed discretely, frowning.

“Ah, John, you’re so predictable,” Sherlock said dully.

“You’re so annoying and you don’t see me going around complaining,” John snapped.

“Don’t be childish,” Sherlock got up and straightened his clothes, “Anyway, the cab is waiting outside.”

They left the flat and entered the cab in silence.

The driver had just pulled out when Sherlock’s mobile rang. He glanced at John and answered the call.

“Lestrade,” Sherlock greeted, “Yes, exactly. He’s looking fantastic, according to the plan.”

He paused, probably listening to Lestrade.

“Yes, I mentioned Don Juan,” Sherlock said and he rolled his eyes, “Of course, I am sure the one who tries to besiege him is the killer.”

He faked a smile at John’s direction.

“Fine, We’ll meet you there,” he said briefly before he ended the call.

John shot a deadly glance in Sherlock’s direction and all he could manage to say was:

“I bloody hate you, you mad bastard!”

 

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Liked this story? Try my other works:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/dailyroutineat221B/works
> 
> Thank you.


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